I Blame You, Walmart
by Brooketacular
Summary: It's New Year's Eve. Kaiba has to find something at Wal-mart. And of course, Joey Wheeler has to work there. Could life get any worse? -Coarse language, and may transpire into SetoxJou-


AN: Um, I forgot how to do these. But I do know that this is the first real fanfic I've ever done. It'd be awesome if you pardon any major screw-ups at this point in time. I'd like to know about them, though. So.. just tell me if you like it, don't like it, anything is grammatically incorrect, etc. and I'll love you forever. Oh, and this is Kaiba's POV if you didn't notice already. I feel like Kaiba should get his own POV in a fanfic every once in a while (since the only first-person SetoxJou realistic fics I've seen are from Joey's perspective).

Disclaimer: It's obvious that I don't own Yugioh, Target, or Walmart. Except for a similar experience at Walmart. Which I wish I didn't own.

So, on with the story. Enjoy, yo! :D

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I fucking hate Walmart.

I hate the long lines, the bulk-buying-for-cheaper-prices, the fat old women with full-grown beards, the screaming children, and the inability to find anything in this monstrous place.

How are people expected to get their shopping done? I realize that not everyone has personal assistants like mine who can complete menial and god-awful jobs, but _why the hell would someone choose to shop at Walmart? _Why pick this place instead of, for example, Target? It's smaller, cleaner, and has _at least_ only half the germs of this hellish warehouse franchise.

So you're probably wondering how I got here. Me, the great and powerful Seto Kaiba, wandering Wal-mart at five p.m. on New Year's Eve. And all I can say is..

French onion dip. Of all the things to forget for our annual Kaiba Corp. New Year's Eve party, Mokuba decided to just completely erase the French onion dip right out of his mind. He probably replaced it with pokemon cheats, but that's a completely different story.

And, of course, he tells me this right before everything starts.

"_Um.. Seto.. I have to tell you something," Mokuba whimpers. I jump right out of my seat, clutching the fire extinguisher I've learned to keep under my desk. _

"_What's on fire this time!?" I yell, holding the red cylindrical object in front of me._

"_Nothing Seto.. I just forgot to tell the assistant about the French onion di."_

"…_Haha, very funny Mokuba," I chuckled as I sit back down. "No one likes that crap anyway." Of course, then I remember a new, rich client who specifically asked for it at the party. And then I sigh._

"_Well, what are we going to do about it, Mokie?"_

And that's pretty much how I got stuck in this place. I should've at least taken Mokuba with me to find the stupid dip. Aisles upon aisles of the same useless junk don't agree with my logical, organized brain.

After about twenty minutes of searching, I find myself in the clothes section of the store. I watch some five-hundred pound woman wearing a disgusting blue vest search through gaudy infant clothing until she eventually glares up at me. "You gotta problem, kiddo?"

"No," I reply, "But you obviously do. Obesity is a major health crisis." I usually enjoy my high-caliber snark, but at this point I'm so tired I couldn't care less.

"Listen pal, I can get security to pull you out of here right now. But neither of us wants that to happen because then you won't get that one, solitary thing you're searching for." I stand in shock. How does she know that I only want some stupid dip? Is she spying on me to obtain company information?

"No, I can't read your mind, I just know your type. All you busy, workaholic people want only one thing in the whole store and you run through hell and back with us, the employees, to get it. Well I'll have you know I'm not going to take it anymore!" The morbidly obese woman raises her voice and edges a few steps forward. I know, at this point, that I am royally screwed. She'll probably crush me into a million pieces with her rolls of fat, and she probably doesn't even have something of value that I can sue her for.

"Woah, Joanna, back offa' the guy," says a certain blonde-haired duelist with a Brooklyn drawl. Just what I need right now.

"Listen, Wheeler, I really don't need your help with this.."

"O'course you do, Kaiba. You and I both know that Joanna 'ere would pummel you into da ground. And Joanna and I both know that we'd like ta keep our jobs. So both of you, stop it." Joanna walks off, and I sigh. Crisis averted.

"So what's the rich-and-powerful Mr. Moneybags doing in a _terrible _place like this?" The mutt asks, probably trying to get a rise out of me.

"Enjoying the atmosphere, obviously," I smirk. For some reason, sarcasm always tastes better around the second-rate duelist.

"Oh, well since you're not looking for anything in particular, I'll just be on my w—"

"Wait!" I yell. "I mean, wait." I calculate that a two-minute conversation with Wheeler is better than twenty minutes more in this store. "I actually am looking for something."

"Oh, and what would that be?" Wheeler conspicuously asks. "Sorry, we don't carry gold-spewing fountains."

"I just want some damn French onion dip for a stupid party! Is that too much to ask for?" Shit. My desperation just broke my typical cold demeanor, and it's become obvious to Joey that he, for once in his life, has the upper hand.

"Maybe. What do I get in return for helping you find this dip?" I figure I should reassert my dominance over Wheeler, but I'm too concerned with returning home to really worry about it.

"Christ, I don't know. I'm Seto Kaiba. What the fuck do you want?" I pull out my checkbook with a silver "KC" encrusted on the front. "Money? Is that it? I really don't care, I just want the dip so I can get out of this god-forsaken store!"

"Woah, dude, chill. I didn't realize you were so freaked out about this. Come on, I'll show you where the dip is." Joey leads me through a maze of half a dozen rows until we reach a display filled with chips of every shape and size. He then picks up a jar labeled "French Onion" off the bottom row and hands me the Holy Grail of Walmart's inventory.

I stare at the dip for a few seconds, wondering if this is a dream. The item I've been searching relentlessly for is finally in my grasp. After taking a few deep breaths, I finally recover my emotional stability.

"No wonder you couldn't find this stuff, it was on a special display," Joey states, more to himself. "Now you can go back to your fancy party." He sighs, accidentally hinting at a peculiar desire to go. Most people think I can't pick up on stuff like that, but they just make that assumption because I typically don't care about others' feelings. However, the mutt _did_ help me find the dip. And I _am _curious as to why he wants to go to the stuffy, dry party…

"How about you.. come along?" I ask, staring at the ground. "You did help me find this, and it's obvious you hate this job. I'll fire your superior in the morning if he makes any threats."

"Do what now?" I think I just sent the poor dog into shock.

"I'm not going to ask again, Wheeler. If you want to come to the damn party, follow your master through the checkout line and out the door. And for god's sake throw away that awful vest on our way out." I stride down the aisles to the cash register with my new puppy tagging along at my heels.

**TBC..?**

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**Like it? Hate it? Think it's ridiculously OOC and that an encounter at Walmart is a terrible idea for a fanfic?

Then review it! :D I'm open to suggestions.


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